How to get a bathtub in Wyoming

1. Go to a friend’s house to check out her remodel & shoot guns & play all day.

2. Over lunch, when her men are discussing what the heck to do with the old cast iron tub sitting on their lawn, chime in with “I’ll take it!!”

3. Chain the bathtub to a trackhoe.

4. Raise bathtub, deposit in truck.

5. Drive home with a huge smile after a really awesome day.

{Thanks Carol & Fam!}

Trailin’ Cows

This weekend we trailed the cows to their spring pasture. Because of the climate and the landscape, cows are moved several times a year so they can eat as much fresh, luscious grass as possible. They have serene spring and fall pastures down in the valley, gorgeous summer pasture on top of the mountain, and they spend the winter at Mike’s house where they are fed hay (sun-dried grass, stored for wintertime) until the green grass grows again.

Trailin’ cows is a long walk, slowly. There’s no reason to rush the cows; slow and steady allows them to remain calm and mellow, nibble roadside grass along the way, and nurse their calves as needed. We went about ten miles down the highway; it took about six hours.

Sarah got the very-important-yet-very-boring duty of being the flagger truck. Her job was to stay about 1/4 mile ahead of the cows and at the head of any blind corners or hills to alert other drivers that the highway was filled with cows. Cows and 70mph vehicles don’t mix well.

You can always tell a tourist from a local because the tourists stop their cars right in front of the cows and wait for the cows to go around them. Which doesn’t work. It’s a big strange noisy thing just sitting there, and the cows get nervous and stop or turn around. Those in the know will drive slowly through the cows, for a potentially threatening thing headed straight-on to a cow will cause the cow to go straight past it ~ and the cows keep moving forward. There’s a little bovine physics for you.

Another ruralism: you can always tell someone’s trailin’ cows when you see poop splatter headin’ down the road.

I was a’horseback making sure the front of the group kept moving and in the right direction while Mike brought up the rear, on a fourwheeler when necessary but mostly at the very back in a truck and horsetrailer, flagging from the other end.

Cows are quite wonderful the way they string out and follow the leader. They trust the group and funtion as a whole in so many ways. The older cows have made this journey several times and know exactly where they are going ~ they act happy to embark on the trek, for they know rolling hills of fresh grass await.

Pro tip: Get that soft-focus, vintage look by leaving a nice big thumbprint on your lense. (Or, you can achieve the same effect by stretching a layer of tulle across the lense! Try it!)

Ranger is a fantastic horse but he detests trailing. He gets very bored. He’d rather be out breaking trail or racing across the BLM than stuck on a highway with cows for six hours. And it’s true ~ trailing cows is one of those things (at least for me) that is far more romantic in concept than action. I’d rather be out breaking trail or racing across the BLM, too!

All morning, Ranger kept turning around in an attempt to start back home ~ as if I wouldn’t notice. And when I thwarted his attempt, he’d toss his head in irritation and I’d spin him in a circle back to the front and we’d walk for a while and then: another attempt to rebel, another showy head toss, another spin on his hind feet, another thousand yards. I called it the Ballet of Belligerence.

When we were done, and Ranger heard the horse trailer approaching, he perked up. I dare say he was delighted. And the calves frolicked in the water like kids and the cows buried their noses in grass.

EEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh baby you’re so fine……..

drool, slobber!!!

Five Reasons To Have A Cow

Please note! By “cow,” herein, I mean cow {female} OR steer {castrated male}. Or bull, I suppose. Or if you’re like me, all three! I just don’t want to type cow/steer/bull/bovine/calf/heifer at every turn. Slap my hand.

It is my determination that a cow is a cross between a horse and a dog. This concept flickered to mind with Daisy, became an undeniable theroy with Sir Baby, and has been confirmed with Frisco. Dog + Horse = Cow.

1. Cows are smart. Somewhere along the way, cows were given the label of dumb beast and it is so far from the truth. Cows have incredible intelligence, especially in noticing and understanding patterns. Show a cow something a handful of times, and it becomes memorized.

When I got Daisy, I would gather her up from the field at roughly the same time each evening and lead her to the corrals for the night. A week or so into our time together, I got distracted and didn’t notice it had suddenly gotten late. Daisy knew. Daisy knew the time and the routine and she walked in from the far reaches of the field and stood outside my door and MOOOed, an insistent, un-ignorable, “Are we going to the corrals now, or what??” kind of moo.

2. Cows smell good. Cows do not smell bad. Maybe if they’re trapped in a feedlot they do, but that is a problem created by people, not inherent to the cow. Just as horses have a distinct and wonderful “horse” smell, cows have a distinct and wonderful “cow” smell.

Cows smell warm and sweet, like homemade pastry.

3. Cows are obedient. Daisy, Frisco, and Sir Baby all know their names. They come when called. They obey voice commands akin to a dog.

Sir Baby, my bull, comes up to me and rests his forehead against my leg when he wants a nice scratch. This is our “thing,” this is what we do. Last week, I was kneeling on the ground giving Houdini a belly rub and Baby lumbered over and rested his head against my shoulder in request for a scratch. I ignored him because I was with Houdini, and so Baby started nudging me with his head. Like, “hey, I’m here, did you not notice?” But however gentle, a nudge from a bull still makes you rock! I said, “No, Baby.” And he stopped, took two steps back, and waited for his turn. I don’t think this is abnormal. I think cows are really awesome.

4. Cows let you cuddle. I’ve always been a bit jealous of cats ~ the way they get to curl up in a person’s lap and be totally encompassed by another’s warmth and strength. With a cow, you get to be the cat. Because the cow is 10 times bigger than you are! It is an indescribably wonderful thing, to curl up in Daisy’s neck, or stretch out on Sir Baby with a good book while he chews his cud.

Cow therapy is the best therapy. Cows are love. You simply cannot stay in a hateful, anxious, or wounded state when you’re with a cow. Lean against a cow or brush a steer and your veins will soon course with love.

5. Cows have a secret bonus. Because of their massive size and strength, and because they aren’t terribly common as pets, cows can look quite intimidating to strangers. How cool would it be to have a 1500-pound steer guarding your home against intruders?!? He’ll even fertilize your lawn at the same time!